


C.R.A.Z.Y

by sciamachy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciamachy/pseuds/sciamachy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Superheroes like these, who else needs villains?</p><p>Written for SNKKink prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C.R.A.Z.Y

**Author's Note:**

> I take no blame. U___U

  
  
  
When Jean was approached by a person who tried recruiting him as a superhero, his first impression was what mental hospital was missing its ward. He ran off, of course, believing that some mental patient was out and that was quite dangerous. Jean honestly loves to live, thank you very much.  
  
But then, Jean finds out soon enough, the other runs as fast as him if not faster and was very persistent.When mental patient started spouting some support to his claim and shows Jean his Dr. Marco, Trainee Superhero business card, Jean decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.  
  
They spend time together, Marco patiently and sincerely answering all questions that Jean might have about this very Honorable Job. The answers satisfy him to an extent that after the span of the two weeks since Marco decided that he has something that was Superhero material, Jean finally signs up for the job.  
  
And that was three days ago.  
  
Clearly, those two weeks weren't enough to know a Superhero's real personality, trainee or not.  
  
"Marco..."  
  
Jean hesitantly steps forward, staring at his normally composed and lighthearted friend who was currently looking frenzied, screwing and unscrewing bolt after bolt at... Something.   
  
That vaguely looks like a war machine with paws for hands and, wait, were those ears?  
  
"Marco-"  
  
"Yes, Jean?" Marco hardly spares him a glance, continuing on attaching some metallic whip-like thing behind the machine that was looking more and more like a war kitten. Complete with little rocket launchers as its whisker lines.  
  
"Ervin's calling for a meeting and- What are you doing?" Jean asks, slack-jawed, as Marco started cooing.  
  
"It's pretty, isn't it?" Marco looks up at him, pride quite evident in his eyes. "This will save the world! Salvation!"  
  
"Uh, save from what exactly?"  
  
Marco frowns at him, confusion and pity warring in his expression. "Dogs, Jean, evil dogs."  
  
...  
  
First impressions, Jean mourns as he slowly starts to back away from his friend and out of the lab, lasts after all.  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The meeting hall, if it could even be called that, looks like a place where bad people gets locked up and punished. Jean is sure that more than an hour at this place alone would likely entitle him a one-way ticket to insanity.  
  
With its perfect square dimensions and daunting white walls, the only saving point of the room was the circular table and the number of dark blue cushioned chairs placed right in the middle.   
  
So now it looks like a typical movie set where all the evil overlords meet and discuss detailed plans for world domination. Except, they weren't quite the antagonists, are they? The complete opposite, in fact.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Erwin's voice snaps Jean right out of his musings, "We are hereby gathered to day..."  
  
Jean fervently hopes this doesn't turn out like some of those evangelical sessions he sometimes manages to catch on tv.   
  
"...ising evil in the East. Obviously, since Voltes V have been compromised..."  
  
What.  
  
"...ower Rangers are still engaged in their current mission..."  
  
Who...?  
  
"...it falls to our capable hands to handle the situation." Erwin meets each of their eyes, "As you may have noticed a few new faces in the room, I'll give you this time to familiarize with each other as you may, no doubt, be paired with one another for the few upcoming missions."  
  
Damn, Jean sucked at socializing.   


* * *

  
  
  
  
"Hi."  
  
Jean looks up from his bowed position in the chair. There were three people standing before him, all looking quite sane (compared to the first person who tackled him to the ground, spouting nonsense and looking like Superman's and Joker's lovechild.  
  
"Jesus, fuck!" Jean yells as he topples over to the floor, a heavy and squirming thing sitting on his chest. When he gets a good look, Jean takes a moment to reorient and assure himself that no, he didn't sign up for the wrong side, did he?  
  
"I'm Hanji, call me Zoe or Hanji or Hanji Zoe, I don't really care, and you're a new face aren't you, well, welcome and and watch your back, okay bye!" And the next second, Jean finds himself lying alone in the floor like nothing happened.)  
  
"You're new, right?" The guy with blond hair asks, hands crossing over his broad chest and buff muscles flexing in the process. His companions shift, the dark haired guy scratching the back of his neck like he was embarrassed and the female rolls his eyes before resuming her intense stare at... the blank wall... huh.  
  
Jean nods warily, mentally preparing himself to whatever might come. Superheroes, after all, are very complicated species.   
  
"Right, then, if you need to look good, we're just a call away."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
The other mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like 'nincompoop' but Jean isn't sure. He settles on narrowing his eyes instead.  
  
"We mean that," the dark haired guy speaks up, an easy going smile in his face, "we're the go to when things are in dire need of blowing up. I'm Bertholt, by the way. Bomb, grenades, rockets, you name it, I provide." He gestures to his friends, "Annie, ballistic specialist, and Reiner, the heavy artillery."  
  
"Oh, so you guys are like the reinforcements?" But something doesn't really adds up. "How come, Annie was it? She's in charge of ballistic? You work in the lab?"  
  
There's a very subtle wince reflex from the other two and Jean wouldn't have notice if they didn't do it at the exact same time. Now that was very suspicious.   
  
"No, uh," Bertholt spares Annie a glance, the girl still intent on scaring the wall with a heavy stare. "She's a physical combat specialist. She, er, likes a particular move that more often than not gives a KO in one hit."  
  
"Really?" Jean appraises the other, curiosity burning bright. "What is it?"  
  
"A knee." Reiner looks at him, eyes full of Meaning. What Meaning, Jean has yet to understand.  
  
"A knee?"  
  
The two emphatically nods.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"To where it hurts the most." Reiner deadpans.  
  
And Jean stupidly first thought of feelings and emotions before the Meaning finally sinks in and he lets out tiny horrified squeak that he would probably deny for the years to come.  
  
"That's why the name."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah.  
  
Jean mentally shudders when he thinks he sees the faintest hint of a cruel smirk curve Annie's lips.   
  
Superheroes, harsh business that.  


* * *

  
  
  
  
When Jean met Eren, there was an explosion of feelings and words.  
  
After civil introductions and a short exchange, Jean now firmly believes that they were supposed to fight on opposite sides. And Eren was definitely on the wrong side. This, of course, led to passionate declarations of rage and almost emotional exchange of fists in the face.  
  
"What the fuck," Eren wheezes, "is your problem?"  
  
Jean almost triumphantly grins as Eren tries to speak more, words muffled by the headlock he caught the other into.  
  
"You , you stupid kid." Jean tightens his hold momentarily before loosening again. "You have your own opinions about justice, fine, but don't fucking try to shove it in me."  
  
"I can turn-"  
  
"Who cares?"   
  
"Let him go."   
  
Jean jerks in surprise as his eyes zero in to girl roughly his age with a pretty face and a gaze colder than the Artic itself. He hastily drops Eren like a sack of potatoes.  
  
"He-Hey."  
  
The girl ignores him, moving instead to help Eren from the floor and guide him to a standing position like a baby. He can see Eren trying to brush away the help, face flushing.  
  
"I'll get you next time!" Eren swears as he stalks off, the girl falling in step beside him. For a second, Jean feels a brief brush of jealousy and confusion for whom.  
  
Superheroes suck.  


* * *

  
  
  
  
"You there."  
  
The moment Jean met Corporal Rivaille and his infamous Frown with the Force of One Army, he froze, hastily waved a sloppy salute, and ran far away from the man.  


* * *

  
  
  
  
"That is all. Every one is dismissed."   
  
With Erwin's stern voice ringing still in his ears, Jean heaves the biggest sigh of relief in his life yet. Chairs scrape on the floor as its occupants slowly stand one by one before piling out the door. The chattering voices, loud and hushed, slowly started to fade until Marco, with one glance back at him, shut the door behind him, leaving Jean alone in the spacious white room for the mentally retarded, aka the meeting hall.  
  
Jean slumps to the table, head cushioned in his folded hands. Little by little, all the bad decisions he'd made in his life flash by his mind, and how, three days ago, he may have done the biggest mistake by far. It takes all of his willpower not to break down in tears and cry for his mother.   
  
Seriously, with the Superheroes like these, who the fuck needs villains?  


* * *

  
  
  
  
_"Hello."_   
  
_"Yes?" Jean frowns at the stranger, pausing from texting in his phone._   
  
_"My name is Marco and I would like to recruit you for Superheroes Anonymous. You look like you have the potential to be Committed in Razing Antagonists for a Zen Year."_   
  
_"What?"_   
  
_The stranger suddenly smiles, a tinge of Something coating his expression. It makes Jean suspicious and an unexplained chill runs down his spine._   
  
_"Nothing, shh. Just come."_   
  
_Jean ran._   
  
  
  


 


End file.
